


The Dandelion Field

by Ely



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-War, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, HP: EWE, The Burrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 05:24:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6410569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ely/pseuds/Ely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione Granger is grieving over the death of her best friend, and she can see no end to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dandelion Field

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling

**ONE DAY SINCE**

Hermione can barely breathe.

She is in the Burrow because she has nowhere else to go, and has locked herself in what is now considered a _spare_ room. Her breathing catches in her throat after every gut-wrenching sob, as she curls up in a ball on the _spare_ bed, not caring that her face is soaked in hot, sticky tears and snot. She doesn’t care that her hair is matted and greasy. She doesn’t care that she hasn’t eaten in days. She doesn’t care that people have tried to come in and talk to her. She doesn’t care about anything anymore.

Because her best friend is dead, and she did nothing to save him.

He had loved her. Of course, she had loved him too, but not in the way he hoped for. And she had ruined his final moments of living by rejecting him. But now, there’s nothing she can do.

Ron Weasley is dead.

The words penetrate her brain and she screams out in anguish, wishing that her burning lungs would collapse in on themselves so she didn’t have to face this painful existence anymore. Her heart-wrenching scream dissolves in a guttural, gurgling sob and she digs her chapped fingernails into her raw cheeks, wishing she could die.

In the room next door she can hear a few quiet sobs from multiple people. She hates being here. She hates that she has to listen to the Weasley’s grief when she is already so consumed in her own, but she has nowhere else to go. Her parents no longer remember who she is. Her best friends are dead and hospitalised, and Hermione Granger is desperately lost and alone.

She lets out another twisted sob and doesn’t hear the soft knocks from the other side of the door.

* * *

**THREE DAYS SINCE**

It hasn’t got any easier.

Hermione still hasn’t eaten or showered. She also hasn’t drunk anything, meaning that her tears and sweat have all been used up, so instead she just lies there, shuddering at the memory of the flash of green light and occasionally voicing a dry, rasping sob. She’s screamed herself hoarse and can no longer make any sound that might be considered normal, but that doesn’t stop her from trying as she drifts in and out of a sleep plagued by nightmares of that green flash of light which Ron jumped in front of for her.

Hermione grabs hold of her hair at the roots and tugs at it, her scream coming out as a rasping sob.

She is broken.

Hermione drifts heavily back into her tormented sleep, large sobs racking her body, and, again, does not hear the slightly louder knocking at the door.

* * *

  **FOUR DAYS SINCE**

Hermione’s stomach growls, begging her to eat or drink something. She sits up slowly on the bed, and doesn’t sob any more. She is numb and empty, as though there is a gaping hole inside her soul. She doesn’t think she should divulge herself in such luxuries when her best friend is dead, but her body insists as it pushes her off the crumpled bed. She stands still for a moment, feeling dizzy, waiting for it to subside.

She pulls open the door, and is met with the sight of a tall, lanky boy with flame-red hair. For a moment, her heart skips a beat and breaks through the numbness, before she realises that this is not Ron. It’s another one of the Weasleys.

She isn’t sure which one, but he hands her a glass of water and a plate of some sort of food. She stands there, staring at it, her slow brain trying to figure out what this is for, before the Weasley – whichever it had been – turns and walks away. Hermione shuts the door of the _spare_ room again and sits down on the _spare_ chair at the _spare_ desk. She doesn’t bother locking it. She places the two items down and drinks, the smooth water gliding down her frayed, raw throat as she gazes emptily into the dandelion field outside the window.

* * *

**SIX DAYS SINCE**

The door opens.

Hermione doesn’t bother looking up because she knows it’ll be someone trying to get her to do something, like shower. She continues lying in the foetal position, eyes fixed numbly on a photograph of her, Ron and Harry on the _spare_ bedside table.

She barely notices as the soft footsteps move towards her, and suddenly the weight of someone sitting next to her dents the bed.

“Hermione.” The voice is rasping and almost as raw as Hermione’s feels. She does not move. “You should come downstairs.” There is a long silence full of emptiness and heartache.

“No,” she says in a broken whisper, shattering through the silence.

“You’ll feel better,” insists the hoarse voice. Hermione pushes herself up with her heavy arms and turns to face the person in front of her. Her vision is blurred, but she can see who it is.

“Nothing can make me feel better,” she says in what would have been a firm, stubborn voice had it not been so interwoven with grief.

“Please,” whispers Fred Weasley, with the unmistakable look of sadness in his eyes, which are lined with red, raw skin. He is pale, and his hair is almost as greasy as Hermione’s feels. It is the face of someone who is just as broken as she is.

So she agrees.

They walk side by side down the winding stairs of the Burrow in a mutual silence.

When they reach the living room, Hermione almost collapses, but Fred catches her before she can.

All of the Weasley’s are in here. Arthur, his arms locked around Molly who is leaning into him, both sobbing silently. Bill, with his wife, Fleur, stony faced but with the unmistakable ghost of grief in his eyes and a pale, scarred face. Charlie, his usual easy smile nowhere in sight. Percy, his uptight exterior shot through with sorrow and tracks of tears down his cheeks from his raw eyes. George, numb and unnaturally upright, with his arm around Percy. Ginny, her hair knotted and her eyes bloodshot, staring into the fireplace. And Harry, who Hermione notes must have just got out of hospital, sitting next to Bill with his jaw clenched to prevent tears from escaping his eyes. All of the Weasleys are here.

Except Ron.

And that’s the only reason they are all here.

If Ron weren’t dead, Hermione highly doubted that Bill and Fleur would be sitting here right now. Or Charlie. And especially Percy. All of a sudden, Hermione feels uncontrollably angry, but before she can yell, Fred places his arm around her shoulders in a calming gesture, as though he sensed Hermione’s entire body tense and her mind begin to race.

“Hermione,” mutters Harry, looking into her eyes. When Hermione looks at him, all she can think of is a painful reminder of Ron.

When Harry speaks, all eyes fix on her with a somewhat pitying look. They shouldn’t be pitying her! She’s the reason he’s dead. She’s the one he was trying to save by jumping in front of that killing curse shot at her by Bellatrix Lestrange. A killing curse she could easily have avoided herself.

“It’s my fault,” she rasps out. As Harry begins to shake his head, Hermione interrupts him, “It is. I was there. None of you were there. You don’t know.” She knows she’s getting frantic, and she throws Fred’s arm off her shoulders. But before she can continue anymore she’s engulfed in a hug from Harry, and she is dry-sobbing against his shoulder as he shudders with misery. “I’m sorry,” she cries, her voice getting louder, “I-I could have… I could have-”

“No one blames you,” says a small voice from behind Harry. Hermione pulls away from the embrace to see Molly Weasley is standing up, “No one could ever blame you,” her voice cracks and she bursts into wet sobs. 

* * *

  **SEVEN DAYS SINCE**

“The funeral is tomorrow,” says Ginny blankly, sitting beside Hermione on the sofa as they both stare into the fire, listening to Molly cooking in a desperate attempt at normalcy. Hermione pushes down the raw fire that burns up inside her and decides to talk about something other than this girl’s dead brother.

“So how’s… how’s Harry?” she asks. “Are you together?”

“The war is over,” she says matter of factly. “Things have changed.”

“Do you still have feelings for him?” asks Hermione, attempting to feel pity and sadness for Ginny rather than grief for Ron. Ginny considers this for a moment.

“I don’t know. And he doesn’t either.”

Hermione can sense the unspoken. That they remind each other too much of what linked them in the first place – Ron.

Hermione feels a weight next to her on the sofa, and she turns to see Fred holding a plate of cakes. Hermione almost bursts into tears at how trivial and normal it is, but she tries to cling onto it.

“Want one?” he asks, the corner of his mouth attempting to pull up in a smile. Hermione nods and reaches to take one.

“Thanks,” she says, and turns to offer Ginny one, but she seems to have disappeared. She slowly chews what she’s sure would be a very nice piece of cake if it weren’t for her dry mouth making it tasteless. Fred places the plate on the wooden table in front of them. “Do you blame me?” Hermione suddenly blurts out. She doesn’t know why it’s so important for her to hear reassurance from someone right now.

“No,” Fred barely even hesitates.

“But he was trying to save me,” she says, forcing her voice out of her mouth, “I could have dodged-”

“It doesn’t matter what you could have done,” says Fred, turning inwards so that their thighs brush together. “R-Ron died saving you, because he loved you. If you hadn’t been his friend for the past seven years, I would expect he wouldn’t have been so lucky to live as long.”

Hermione doesn’t know how to respond to that, and she doesn’t need to, because Fred pulls her into him, surrounding her with his warmth as she buries her head in his shoulder and silently cries. She doesn’t bother stopping the suffocating ball of pain unleash inside her chest, but she finds it doesn’t hurt her as much as it did seven days ago, because Fred is there to hold her together.

* * *

**EIGHT DAYS SINCE**

The wind whips through Hermione’s now washed hair and she stands in the dandelion field pressed between Fred and Harry. There are thirteen people at the funeral standing in a semi-circle around the coffin: Percy, Arthur, Molly, Bill, Fleur, Ginny, Charlie, George, Fred, Hermione, Harry, Luna and Neville. Molly has silent tears streaming down her face, but everyone else is managing to stop them, trying to give Ron a dignified funeral.

Hermione can’t help thinking that this is exactly what Ron wouldn’t want. He wouldn’t want his family and friends standing around, stony faced, watching his body as it is lowered into a grave. She’s not sure what he would want, but it isn’t this.

She draws in a sharp breath as she stops a sob from escaping her throat, and feels Harry’s fingers lock themselves with hers. It is comforting, and just as she relaxes a little, Fred’s right hand finds her left and interlocks their fingers together too. This is what Ron would have wanted. He would have wanted everyone to be drawn together in his absence, not scattered apart, and she can’t remember why she had been so angry two days ago at the fact his whole family were there. It seems irrelevant now.

She looks around at everyone there. Luna is holding a dandelion, and Hermione watches her as she blows it so that the soft, silvery seeds fly into the air. Hermione looks up at them blending into the sky, and she thinks of fairies. The beautiful blue sky and the clearness of the air soothes her eyes and lungs as she breathes it in, and she imagines she is flying through the air like the dandelion, free from everything.

All of a sudden, it is as though a weight has been lifted from her heart and lungs and she can breathe again. The grief and pain which weighed her to the ground, making her limbs heavy, eases slightly. It’s still there, but she knows in her heart that Ron would want her to continue her life meaningfully and find peace. He is gone, but he will forever live in the hearts of all the people here.

She turns to look at Fred, whose face is tilted to the sky and breathing calmly, eyes closed. She looks at Harry who is staring straight ahead, but some of the tension in his eyebrows and jaw have left so he looks softer and calmer. She squeezes his hand reassuringly and he turns his head to look at her, smiling weakly. They know this pain will never truly leave them, but they know they will always have each other to lean on to alleviate the sadness. Harry’s sad eyes mirror hers, but she knows he has had the same feeling she has – he has to live his life because it’s what Ron would have wanted. They have to move on.

The ceremony is over and people slowly begin to filter from the large, green field back towards the Burrow. First to leave are Neville and Luna, closely followed by Ginny. Bill, Fleur, Charlie and Percy go next, and Harry squeezes Hermione’s hand before dropping it and following. George trails behind alone until he is joined by Molly and Arthur. Hermione notices that although everyone is still leaden with grief, there is slightly more life in peoples’ step.

She is left standing in the dandelion field hand in hand with Fred, and for some reason she never wants to leave. They gaze down at the disturbed earth covering Ron’s peaceful body and tears begin to leak from Hermione’s eyes. She knows it’s okay to cry. She has to cry, or she might explode, because despite the lighter feeling in her body, she is still weighed down. And so she cries, but it is not uncontrolled, wet, earth-shattering sobs. It’s small and quiet and personal, but Fred must hear the catching in her breath because he drops her hand and wraps his arms around her. She cries into his chest as his head rests on hers, and the slight shuddering from his body tells her that he is crying too. He pulls her as close as he can without crushing her, and she places her hands on his chest, bunching his shirt as she grabs it in the midst of her crying.

As their cries begin to subside, Hermione hears a whisper.

“I’m glad you were there for him.” They are still clinging to each other. “You kept him grounded, but now I’m sure you have his permission to fall apart.” Hermione clings to Fred tighter. She still blames herself for Ron’s death, but Fred is keeping her grounded now, as she had with Ron, and she knows that although she has Ron’s permission to fall apart, Fred will always help hold her together.

“Thank you,” she whispers into his chest. She’s not even sure if he hears her, but it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t stop hugging her.

* * *

**ELEVEN DAYS SINCE**

Whenever Fred sees Hermione now, he always gives her a small smile, and she always returns it. They spend their days sitting next to each other on the sofa in a comfortable silence, usually holding hands for reassurance. Sometimes Harry or Ginny or Molly or Fleur or even Arthur come and sit next to her, and she holds their hand too.

Bill and Fleur left yesterday to go back to Shell Cottage. Charlie and Percy left the day before to get back to their jobs. The seven of them that are left are now sitting on the sofas reminiscing, telling stories about Ron. Harry mentions the ‘Roonil Wazlib’ incident with the potions book, and Fred and George share a soft laugh at their invention. Molly talks fondly about how he used to love playing Quidditch with his older brothers when he was young. Ginny recounts the tale of how he had though his dress robes for the Yule Ball had been for her. Hermione says nothing, and after a while Fred’s hand sneaks over her leg to find hers, and their fingers interlock. It feels so familiar and so… _right_.

Molly soon excuses herself to make dinner, and Arthur decides to go and help. Harry and Ginny exchange a look that Hermione doesn’t miss, and they get up and go outside, probably so they can privately talk. After a few minutes, George wordlessly gets up and heads upstairs to his and Fred’s room.

“How are you feeling?” asks Fred

“Less… heavy,” answers Hermione.

“Me too,” nods Fred, and his hands tighten on Hermione’s. He looks into Hermione’s eyes before looking down. “I feel guilty.”

“Guilty?” asks Hermione. “Why on Earth would you feel guilty?”

“It doesn’t matter,” says Fred, and he turns his head and looks into the empty fireplace. Hermione doesn’t push it.

* * *

**FORTY-EIGHT DAYS SINCE**

Hermione decides she ought to begin tracking her parents down in Australia. Fred and George have left the Burrow to return to Diagon Alley, and although Hermione enjoys spending time with Ginny and Harry, the tension between them could be cut with a knife. She opens her first book to try and find a spell which can reverse the memory charm.

* * *

**FIFTY-NINE DAYS SINCE**

After copious research, Hermione has found a charm to undo her parents’ memory charm without putting them at too much risk. The worst that could happen is that it doesn’t work.

* * *

**SEVENTY-THREE DAYS SINCE**

Hermione thinks she may have found her under the false names Wendell and Monica Wilkins living on a coast of Australia. She goes downstairs to tell Molly and Arthur that she may not be back for a while.

“I wish you all the best,” says Molly, before pulling Hermione into a warm, loving hug.

“You’re leaving?” asks Harry, over Molly’s shoulder.

“Yes, I think I’ve tracked my parents down and I’ve found a reverse memory charm which I think will work.” Hermione pulls away from Molly, feeling the first ray of hope shining through the clouds. “And I promise I’ll be back before your birthday, Harry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists as she walks over to him and pulls him into a hug. She knows he doesn’t want her to worry about him, but she refuses to miss his birthday.

She walks out into the dandelion field where Ron is and kneels next to him.

“I promise I’ll be safe,” she reassures, and pulls a dandelion from the ground and blows the silvery seeds into the air. She watches them fly away carelessly, and imagines herself flying away with them. She swallows the lump in her throat and whispers. “I miss you.”

She stands and Apparates to the first Apparition point she has planned.

* * *

**EIGHTY-FIVE DAYS SINCE**

Hermione returns to the Burrow on a warm, summer morning and is greeted by Molly with open arms.

“I found them,” she says with a smile. “Their memories are back.”

And before she knows it, the tears start spilling from her eyes. She walks through to the living room and sees Harry and Ginny sitting there with, to her surprise, Fred and George. The four of them smile as she enters the room. They can sense her happiness, and they need all the positive news they can get in a time of darkness.

“Hermione!” Ginny jumps up off the sofa and rushes over to her, hugging her tightly.

“I found them about a week ago, I just wanted to spend some time with them before I came back,” she explains. Ginny lets her go and places her hands on Hermione’s shoulders.

“You deserve to be happy,” she says.

“So do you.” Hermione smiles and they exchange a look of grief and happiness and pain and positivity and loss and success. Ginny stands back as Harry rushes over to her in much the same fashion and hugs her tightly.

“I’m so glad you found them,” he says, and Hermione squeezes him as tightly as she can. Two-thirds of the Golden Trio is all that is left, but they will never be separated at heart.

Then it’s George’s turn to hug her. “We needed this good news as much as you did,” he says as he squeezes her, “We came back because, quite frankly, Ginny and Harry aren’t exactly the best company for mum and dad during times like this,” Hermione laughs at his comment.

Fred has barely allowed George to let go before he flings himself towards her and she falls into his arms. He buries his face into her hair and whispers.

“I feel guilty because, despite how Ron felt, I still want to do this.” And he pulls away slightly and places his hand under her chin. He lifts her face to look at him and he gazes down at her adoringly before leaning in slowly and pressing his lips desperately against hers.

The rest of the world drops away and right now it is only them in this moment. Hermione didn’t know how much she needed this until now. The grief ebbs away for one intense, liberating moment and she feels as though she could fly like the dandelion seeds. He is all she needs, and she could never let him go.

* * *

**NINETY DAYS SINCE**

It’s Harry’s birthday and Hermione and Ginny have baked a cake with the occasional intervention from Molly to give tips on how to make it taste and look incredible.

Hermione and Fred also agree to make some cookies.

“No, Fred! You don’t put the flour in yet!” screeches Hermione, trying to stop Fred from destroying the recipe.

“I don’t understand, why can’t we just use magic?” he asks, looking at her pointedly.

“Because it’s more fun this way!” she insists, pulling the flour away from him, only to accidentally drop it on the counter and have it explode in her face. There is a moment of silence before Fred bursts into unrestrained laughter. Hermione scowls at him and grabs a handful, throwing it into his red hair. At the same moment he looks up, and instead it hits him straight in the face. There is a moment where his face becomes a shocked expression, and Hermione’s scowl melts into laughter that she cannot control. Fred grabs a handful of chocolate chips and throws them at her and Hermione grabs the nearest thing to her, which happens to be a knob of butter, and throws it at him. She aims for his head, but it falls disastrously short and hits him on the thigh instead, sliding down his leg and dirtying his trousers.

They run around the kitchen until both of them are covered head to toe in ingredients for cookies, and finally, Fred grabs her round the waist from behind and lifts her away from the ingredients as she grabs helplessly for a wooden spoon just out of her reach. She squeals as he puts her down and spins her round. Their laughter dissolves and they look into each other’s eyes for a split second before Hermione launches herself at him and they are kissing again, covered in flour and butter and chocolate chips, eggs lying cracked on the floor around them, a sprinkling of sugar in Hermione’s hair. And nothing could be more perfect.

* * *

**THREE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-FIVE DAYS SINCE**

The grief hasn’t lessened, they’ve just learnt how to control it and release it in a healthy way.

Hermione and Fred share their grief on the day that marks the year anniversary of the death of his brother and her best friend. They share it with Arthur, Molly, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, George, Ginny and Harry. All of them sit together grieving, but it’s okay because they’ll be okay. Ron will be with them forever in their hearts.

A hopeful air laces the melancholy day, as Bill and Fleur announce that they are trying for a baby. It’s a beautiful thing, and everyone cries together and laughs together. But they are together, and not alone as Hermione had once felt she was.

* * *

**SIX HUNDRED AND EIGHT DAYS SINCE**

Hermione and Fred sit on a bench in the dandelion field, the cold air biting their faces. They are holding hands. Fred has been strangely quiet for the past few days since Christmas, and Hermione can’t quite understand. He should be excited. Fleur is pregnant and the new millennium is about to begin.

“Are you okay, Fred?” asks Hermione, looking at him from under her woollen hat. Snow has begun to fall, and both their faces are red and icy cold, but neither of them care.

“Yes. I just want to tell you that the past year and a half have been the best and worst of my life. You’ve helped me through my grief. You’ve been right there besides me and never wavered. You’re my rock, Hermione, and I hope I’ve been there for you too. I can never repay you for everything you’ve done for me.” He stands from the bench and Hermione goes to stand, but he smiles at her and lowers himself to his knee. “Hermione Granger, I love you with all my being and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” he opens a small, velvet box containing a beautiful silver ring with a scarlet red ruby in the centre.

Hermione can barely breathe. “Yes, oh God yes, of course!” she exclaims and Fred’s smile couldn’t be bigger as he slides the ring onto her finger. He fumbles a little, and they both laugh with delight as they stand and kiss in the dandelion field as fireworks go off in the distance to celebrate the new year.

They sit back down on the bench, talking for hours until they fall silent as they watch the sun rise over the new millennium.

* * *

**SEVEN HUNDRED AND THIRTY-ONE DAYS SINCE**

Fleur and Bill’s daughter is born on the two year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts and Ron’s death. Everyone knows that this child is the hope they have all been waiting for. The symbol of Ron that will never waver. Teddy Lupin visits the Burrow with his grandmother, Andromeda, and everyone laughs and watches as the confused, blue-haired two-year-old tries to play with the baby who hasn’t woken up since he arrived.

“What does Victoire mean?” he asks, looking up at his godfather, Harry, stopping his poking of Victoire’s cheek.

“It means victory in French,” explains Fleur. “It’s symbolic of-”

“Look what I can do!” interrupts Teddy, before she can continue, and he screws up his face and his hair turns a Weasley shade of red. Everyone laughs at him and he grins at the attention. He is not at all a shy child, and he loves showing off all his new tricks. “I look like you all now!”

“Yes, you definitely do.” Harry grins, pulling Teddy onto his lap on the sofa. Everyone breaks off into their own conversations, admiring Victoire, leaving Hermione and Fred to listen to Harry and Teddy’s conversation.

“When do you have a baby?” he asks Harry. Harry chuckles.

“I don’t have anyone to have one with,” he points out, ruffling Teddy’s hair which is still red.

“My cousin Draco could do it!” he volunteers Draco Malfoy without hesitation, and Fred and Hermione break off into uncontrolled laughter as Harry chokes on the breath he was taking.

“Teddy, I’m afraid that’s not how it works,” says Fred, wiping tears from his eyes.

“How about you, then? When can you have one?” Teddy asks indignantly, screwing up his face to turn his nose into a snout like a dog, which Hermione supposes he thinks looks scary.

“Well, uh, Hermione and I haven’t really discussed that yet,” says Fred.

Teddy loses interest as he realises he can change his nose into a beak, and Hermione and Fred share a private moment where they decide they will get married soon.

* * *

**SEVEN THOUSAND AND SIXTY-TWO DAYS SINCE**

Fred and Hermione stand on platform 9¾ at 10:55am as they ignore James Sirius Potter’s protests regarding Teddy and Victoire kissing somewhere. James runs up to his mother, Ginny, and suddenly Hermione is transported back to a moment where Harry and Ginny weren’t a certainty. Now, she can’t see how they ever questioned their feelings for each other.

Harry is talking to Albus somewhere, and all of a sudden, someone tugs at both Fred and Hermione’s sleeves. They crouch down slightly to the level of their only child.

“What if no one likes me?” he asks, looking nervous.

“Don’t worry about that, your cousin, Albus, will be in the same classes as you and I’m sure he’ll stick with you,” reassures Hermione

“But we might not be in the same houses,” he stutters out.

“That doesn’t matter,” said Fred. “Hogwarts will become your home and you will make new friends, no matter what.”

Five minutes later, Fred and Hermione watch as the Hogwarts Express chugs out of the station, hand in hand, Hermione’s head leaning on Fred’s shoulder.

Later that evening, they receive an owl.

It states that Albus Severus Potter was sorted into Slytherin house, and that after a Hatstall between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, their son, Ronald Hugo Weasley has been placed in Hufflepuff.

And Fred and Hermione couldn’t have been prouder.


End file.
